Sitting alone on a park bench in the pouring rain

I observed the city cooped up in the dog pen

Trying to avoid the rain

But what difference does it make to me?

For bound by the vice of regret

I now drown under the soft autumn twilight

Then an amber-tinted leaf drifted down the tree

Like an obedient pet, it came gently and sat on my lap, nuzzling itself against my leg

And then came the epiphany, for I could realize it was never my fault

Like the leaf, emotion had blown me about on the steel breeze

I got up and thanked the leaf, which saved some of my life I rued.